If the shoe fits
by Writersblock42
Summary: Vegeta is furious that his post-training meal is ruined by the Brief's annual winter ball. But when he goes to confront Bulma, his priorities shift.


**A/N:** **I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling.**

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The bass from the party vibrated through the compound, shaking the dining room chair Vegeta sat on. Much to his disgust, even the scent of cheap cigarettes and sickly-sweet alcohol managed to permeate its way to the eating area, tainting what should have been a delicious late-night snack of stir-fried beef and noodles with a spicy chilli and soy sauce.

With a growl, Vegeta forced himself to swallow his latest ashy mouthful, then stood up, scraping the chair behind him noisily and slamming his hand on the table. Not that anyone was there to hear his temper tantrum. No, the Briefs were all at Capsule Corp's annual winter ball, mingling with those revolting humans they called "employees".

Those humans repulsed Vegeta, every single one of them. The way they preened in front of the doctor and his daughter, practically salivating for a slither of their attention, was all too like the way Frieza's men paraded themselves around the self-proclaimed Lord of the Universe. Still, he could have put up with their presence it if they were on the grounds and not disturbing him. But now they had spoilt the first meal he'd had after eleven hours straight of gruelling training and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to do something about it.

Vegeta left his cooling food on the table and strode out of the main house, intent on insisting that they remove everyone from the property before he got rid of them all… permanently.

The air outside was brisk and heavy with frost, as if the clouds above might break with their load of frozen water at any moment. Vegeta shivered, wishing he'd grabbed something warmer to put on over his dark green t-shirt, and despite still being weary from his training, raised his ki slightly to compensate.

As he got closer to the raucous party the base only got stronger, each thud making his stomach turn. The scent grew worse, now mixing with pungent human body odour.

The ball was held in the west wing of the compound, in a large hall that Vegeta had ventured into once when exploring. A staircase led to large wooden double doors that he knew opened into a spacious marble floored room.

He hadn't made it to the base of the steps when they swung open and a woman swept out, silhouetted by the light from the room. Bulma, he realised, recognising her ki a moment before the moonlight hit her face.

A man followed her out, hissing something in a hushed tone, and he grabbed her arm to stop her descending. Vegeta recognised the scar faced warrior's ki immediately, and considered stepping in - not to assist the woman, but because he so enjoyed putting the weakling in his place. A part of him was curious to see how the woman would handle it though, so Vegeta suppressed his own ki and stepped back into the shadow of a tree.

"I'm sorry, B," the weakling said. "I know I shouldn't have come, but-"

"Damn right you shouldn't have come!" Bulma wrenched her arm away. "We broke up months ago Yamcha. You can't keep doing this." She began treading down the staircase in her blue high heels, letting out a sigh of irritation as he followed her.

"B, please," Yamcha said reaching for her again. "Things aren't the same without you."

The woman growled and stepped sideways, then yelped at the sound of a snap. She wobbled on the spot, then pulled her foot out of her shoe. It lay on its side on the step, it's broken heel at an odd angle. "Now look what you've done," she snarled. "Leave please, Yamcha. I told you I wanted space, and I meant it."

The weakling's face fell, but he nodded and made his way up the steps, disappearing into the hall.

As the doors closed once more, Bulma picked up the broken shoe, then threw it towards the garden with a frustrated yell.

Vegeta chuckled as it soared in his direction, and he caught it with one hand. "I thought the party was only food and dancing," he drawled, stepping into the moonlight and heading towards the staircase. "If I'd been informed there was a show as well I may have attended."

Bulma's eyes widened in surprise, but she quickly masked it. "It is a ball, not a party. And what were you doing lurking in the shadows? I made sure you had plenty of food in the fridge."

"Your party was disturbing my meal." Vegeta bared his teeth into an expression that had made many an enemy literally piss themselves.

Bulma Briefs just threw her head back and laughed. "Please. I think you just missed me."

Vegeta scowled at that, then purposefully made sure he didn't stop his advance until he'd reached the same step she stood on to avoid being shorter than her. "I was looking forward to an evening without your constant yapping. But this…" he waved his hand in the direction of the hall, "this horrific noise is an insult to all good music."

The insolent women laughed again. "I didn't know you considered any music good." Her blue eyes sparkled inquisitively. "Now I'm curious. What sort of music does the mighty Prince Vegeta, destroyer of worlds, harbinger of death enjoy?"

Vegeta smirked back at her, leaning in close so the sweet scent of her perfume invaded his nostrils and blocked out all the other disgusting humans. "Anything. But. This."

Bulma cocked her head but didn't reply, eyes narrowing slightly and a half smile quirking her lips. She shivered slightly, and Vegeta realised that the clouds had broken and a flurry was descending. As snowflakes began to drift between them, he noticed how pale she was, her skin almost as white as the snow landing in her hair.

"You're cold," Vegeta said.

"No shit, Sherlock," Bulma replied with a scowl.

Vegeta frowned back, unsure what a 'sherlock' was.

Bulma's frown twisted into something more mischievous. "Are you offering to warm me up?"

Vegeta flushed, suddenly warm despite still having his ki suppressed. He looked her up and down, taking in the tight fitting silver dress that did nothing to protect against the elements. "You claim to be a genius. I'm sure you can sort that out yourself." He grinned suddenly as he noticed the pile of blue curls on her head, decorated with silver flowers on pins. "Or you could let down your hair. It reminds me of a fluffy blue sheep. That will keep you warm."

"A sheep!" Bulma squawked, her cheeks turning red and eyes flashing with fury in a way that made Vegeta's blood heat in response. "I'll have you know that my hair is the height of fashion, not that you'd know anything about that you-"

She stopped talking abruptly, her mouth still open as Vegeta reached out with the hand not still holding her shoe, then slid his fingers into her tamed mane to find one of the pins holding it up. He pulled it out and dropped it on the ground where it fell with a small clatter.

Bulma's breath hitched and she shut her gaping mouth, but she didn't move away, her blue eyes watching him with an unreadable expression. So Vegeta inched closer still, until he was mere millimetres away from her, and continued finding pins in her hair and discarding them on the ground until it tumbled loose around her neck.

He drew his hand away, catching a lock of hair between his fingers. "Warmer?" he asked.

Bulma's tongue darted out as she licked her lips. She shook her head slowly, looking at him through her eyelashes.

Vegeta dropped her hair and trailed one finger along her collarbone, watching the way her skin reacted with goose bumps to her touch. He leaned in closer, raising his ki so it pulsated around them both. "How about now?"

Bulma's skin began to regain its pink hue, but she shook her head with a smirk then leaned into him, looping her arms around his neck. "You'll have to try harder," she whispered, her warm breath caressing his lips.

Vegeta met her gaze, searching for any signs of madness in her eyes. They'd been dancing around each other for weeks, and while the last thing he needed was a distraction he could honestly say he'd never met anyone as physically enticing as her who'd also managed to match his verbal wit blow for blow.

Finding nothing but curiosity and the same heat he felt pooling in himself in her gaze, Prince Vegeta, destroyer of worlds, harbinger of death, leaned forward pressed his lips to hers carefully, half afraid that a mere kiss from someone as evil as him would make her spontaneously combust. She thankfully remained intact and tightened her grip around his neck, pulling him closer as she opened her mouth a little to deepen the kiss, and he found himself unable to do anything but respond in turn. He kissed her more forcefully and his hand opened of its own volition, dropping the shoe to the ground where it clattered down the steps.

When she pulled back, breathing heavily and cheeks red not from anger but from something else for the first time in his presence, she gave him a smile. It wasn't her usual mocking one, but an invitation. "You know…" she said slowly. "My bedroom has central heating."

Vegeta hesitated only a moment before completely throwing any concerns aside. He pulled her close, then took to the air with her in his arms and flew back to the other side of the compound, leaving the broken blue shoe at the bottom of the steps.

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 **A/N: This was my week one entry for TPTH's Vegebul Mayhem on Tumblr. I'm sorry that it took me away from updating _Out of Time_ , but writing a first kiss scene between these two was fun!**


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